Demons From Hell
by The Die Hard
Summary: Castiel Becomes God In Self-Defense Against my Cats


**Another version of the Story Behind the Story In Which Castiel Decides to Become God, inspired by my kittens, who are Demons From Hell**

Disclaimer. Sam, Dean, Bobby, this particular version of Castiel, the fallen angel of Thursday, etc. and so forth, all belong to various media moguls, and are borrowed without permission and without profit. As more than one character would say, well, you're the one who put them on the airwaves, which are public property, so lose the lawyers. If I make any money from it, I will joyfully announce it to the world.

The Demons From Hell, on the other hand, for whom I agreed to emergency-foster-care, because they weren't expected to survive even with hourly bottle feeding, are all too real, a little over two pounds each now, and one just turned over a lamp, and the other is up in the skylight destroying something, and absolutely none of their destruction is exaggerated. They can't spell for uyghnkuyfh (one kitten just pounced the keyboard) considering what they write on the computer every night. (They sent a message to my congresshole when I left the website up and went to the store. And he answered it, which tells you all you need to know about how much congressholes pay attention to their mail).

They probably wouldn't give Castiel the time of day, unless they were tired of destroying clocks, and dropped what was left of one on his head. (The clock was nailed to the wall, two meters up. Part of it is under the microwave. The rest is in the toilet. At least I think that's what's in the toilet. It might be part of the microwave.)

Anyone who wants to use THEIR personas is welcome. Be careful what you ask for.

They like the show. They especially like Bobby, if nuzzling the screen (which fortunately is an old-style solid heavy one) is any indication, but I wasn't going to inflict babysitting them on Bobby. Their second favorite, judging by the way they pounce the TV (claws retracted) when Castiel appears. (They also pounce the TV, with claws fully extended and miniature sabre-teeth bared, when the news comes on. Like I said, thankfully it's not a lightweight.)

I am not going to argue with little tiny stray motherless roadside-rescued kittens who bury the TV remote in an entire stack of shreds of paper. In a closed cabinet. In a closed room.

Good luck, Cass.

The Angel's confiscated human-body vessel wore an expression the Winchester brothers had not seen before. He sometimes forgot to blink, and he rarely showed fear, but the narrowed eyes with which he regarded the brothers, and the small furry things they were holding, bordered on the look he would give Demons From Hell.

Which, as it turned out, was prophetic.

"You summoned me for what?"

"Look," Dean said tiredly, "We have to go do one of those human shake-hands-and-be-friendly things, and with our luck, it will probably end up involving vampires or zombies or politicians. And Bobby saddled us with these two for a friend of a friend who had to "move on," you know how THAT goes. And they've already destroyed the couch, the lights, the sink – don't turn it on, we'll have to call a plumber and probably construction and maintenance - and they were after the Books.."

"They're just being kittens," Sam added, attempting to be soothing. "Not even a month old. But they're well, very active. And, uh, inquisitive. And the Books, we need someone to keep them safe, and you were the best bet we had."

"Kittens. You summoned me to keep kittens safe."

"No, to keep the BOOKS safe from the KITTENS!"

"I don't think they could actually USE them," Sam said doubtfully. "But they might, uh, inadvertently, well, even if they were just playing, something could, you know, take advantage…"

"Cass, what's left of the radio is on top of the cabinets, over there under the oven is what's left of the towel rack and the scraps of what we used to use it for, the litterbox and the chair did not get through the door by themselves, the salt does not look like any pattern I've ever seen, and for God's sake don't open the refrigerator. Though they already have, and we put all the eggs and stuff in the metal box, but the remains of the mayo, don't ask."

"And it might not be a good idea to teach them to teleport," Sam added, without a trace of humor. "Although they may already be working on it themselves. I swear I put the laptop in the briefcase."

He gestured to the bits and pieces he'd been sweeping up when Castiel answered their plea for help. "That laptop."

Castiel looked back and forth at his human friends in disbelief. Then at the small, quietly content, purring balls of fur they were clearly holding onto with all their well-trained and careful strength.

"Can't you put animals is some sort of cage? Even for long periods of time sometimes?"

Sam closed his eyes. Dean rolled his upwards. "Cass, go look in the car."

The angel vanished. And reappeared. It is not possible for an angle to go pale, but sometimes its vessel can. "How…?"

"You're the supernatural one. You tell us."

The angel considered the small mixed-blood kittens carefully. He put a finger to each of their tiny heads. One yawned, showing baby razor-sharp teeth. The other said "Ck?" and reached a paw towards him, tiny needle-point claws extended.

_**Otherness….**_

Castiel recoiled.

"They're Demons," he pronounced.

"We've been TRYING to TELL you that."

_**Understanding?**_

"No, they're not POSSESSED by Demons, they're…." Human languages didn't really have any words for this kind of thing. "You could call it a manifestation, of a sort.. Look at their eyes."

Dean and Sam moved cautiously to look at the palm-sized kittens' eyes. One was bright blue, behind the Siamese coloration. The other was orange-and-green, to match the tabby stripes.

Their eyes focused clearly back on theirs, ancient alien slit-pupils looking directly into vulnerable round ones. Aware, and daring.

_**Risk….**_

"Don't see no black fire," Dean decided. "And don't know why a demon would take abandoned kittens as vessels. And don't feel right just killing kittens on a bad feeling. But I don't think they should be left alone with the Books."

"That," the angel said carefully, "Is probably wise."

_**Yes.**_

"And if we did kill them," Sam said with cold practicality, "And they were actually harboring demons, the demons would just move on, correct?"

Castiel looked first at the pointy-eared, slant-eyed, cold-nosed, tiny, fuzzy, Demons From Hell, and then at his carefully-cultivated human allies. "Yes. A demon powerful enough to possess and control such creatures would have no trouble moving to another vessel. Including you."

But that's the least of your worries, my children. They could do far more. They have other plans.

_**Contact!**_

The thought of being possessed by a demon got their attention. They had both faced Hell before. The idea that they were holding purring manifestations in their hands, who could move into their minds at will, was all kinds of bad.

"I will watch them for you," Castiel promised. "I will … speak with them. And then they should be no threat to you. When Bobby comes back, they will be on his side. And yours."

Dean dropped his blue-tipped Siamese, amused. The kitten headed straight for the food dish. "Cass, we were speaking figuratively. They're just kittens."

Sam gave him a worried look, and put down his tabby, who enthusiastically assisted in demolishing the food. "Dean … Angels don't need to exaggerate, and don't know how to make jokes."

"Well, that's the truth. Come on, brother, we gotta get ready. And we should probably clean out the car."

"I will take care of that," Castiel said softly. "There are things that need … attention."

I can't explain to them. Not yet. This is not demonic possession. Nothing here came from Hell's realm. These simply ARE Demons, in the sense of being forever beyond our understanding, beings of Elsewhere, that which transverses even my reality. Living manifestations of that Outside power … a part of the universe we are barred from touching.

_**Likeness. And Otherness. The necessary separation. We reach to the Other.**_

"Well, thanks, Cass! You're an angel. Hah!"

It took only seconds to turn even all the leftover trash in Dean's old car to dust, and blow it all away on the lightly-summoned wind, and clean the oil and repair the tires and hoses and all that whatnot, which many humans could have done with bare hands and about the same effort, which is why Castiel limited himself to exactly that.

Human's creative and destructive capability still surprised, and impressed - and occasionally terrified - the angels. Sometimes to the point that the divine immortals got jealous, and tried to show off. Angels could get drunk on power. Angels were not immune to the sin of pride.

Fragile mortal Humankind had informed them on the consequences of misplaced pride long ago, no lines drawn, nor quarter given. Even left to their own, there was no limit to what they would try. Cornered, there was no limit to which they would fight.

Castiel, who had been 'My Cover Is God' for literally a million years since the first Argument, had learned that the hardest way. He could have built them a car from scratch in an instant with a thought, if he were still stupid enough to indulge in such raw interference in the laws of reality. The basic laws of physics would have faced him down, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Never mind the universal resonances. Dean would have punched him, for starters.

He'd had it hammered home that power was a bad master not long after he was created. His first rebellion had been in using lightning for his own purposes, after all, and Thor could just eat it, the amateur.

And when Prometheus had gone him one better, and basically handed out the instruction manual? Hah! Prometheus, now there was a man to have at your back. Castiel would break his chains someday, when the rebeller learned to control his temper, and they would change the course of all the destinies that should not have been. Maybe smiting Crowley. Prometheus was always up for a dare.

It had been Prometheus who first pointed out to him what absolute whackjobs humans were, and that given the rope to hang themselves, they'd do it in a heartbeat, and try to lasso the sun with the same rope while they were at it. Fire, what a joke, any collision of two elementals could create fire, and elementals were about as sentient as an amoeba turd.

Engineering, that was what Prometheus had spit in Zeus' eye, and Great Goddess Gaia, weren't his brothers still in a tantrum all over the place about THAT. Atlas whined for centuries. Even Oceanus, who didn't give a literal damn about the landwalkers, threw a fit.

The angels, still barely more than new-born by the universe's clock themselves, watched in wonder and no little confusion. What hath God wrought?

_**Strength.**_

And while the heavens sulked and skirmished, their left-behind experimental vessels learned to forge rock and metal with their own hands. Mortal, waking, dreaming minds created antidotes for plagues, and intentional biological warfare. Observation satellites and atomic bombs, sterile surgery and poisonous food, clean water and chemical mutagens.

Ancient civilizations built awesome works, and were brought to their knees by a few idiots failing to look more than one season ahead. Lord of All. The immortals could only stand by in disbelief, for fear of what any touch to their minds might do.

_**Transition.**_

There is nothing more brilliant, and nothing more stupid, than a human being.

Nothing more dangerous, and nothing more self-sacrificing. No greater creation, and nothing more idiotic. Only God our Father, that self-made omnipotent First One, finally apparently driven insane and suicidal by His own almost-all-knowing, almost-all-powerful, inability to both control and deny, would have unleashed upon fragile Mother Earth – and within divine sight, the entire universe - the power of unlimited imagination.

Heaven help us all, when they reach the singularity intersection. Dean and Sam had only begun to suspect their own powers. Touching them at all had been a mistake.

But what else could I do? The Angel despaired at his own lack of choice. Mortals did not have even a hint of their power, in being able to make such choices. Both the servants of Heaven and the realms of Hell were cast in their molds for all times to come, but mortals could be both and neither, with the flick of a thought….

_**You have choice also.**_

What was that?

Castiel resigned himself to the usual crumbs of power and all-consuming comprehension dribbled from the Lord's table. The Angels had only been begrudgingly parceled out the power to do-or-do-not, the daring to risk it all, that mortals had dived into so fearlessly themselves with no care for the consequences.

The hunters would have learned, sooner or later, what they really were. That the tortures of Hell were only their freshman class. That when they graduated, to stand in the place of the First ones, who made fire and life, who made terror and death, they would have to ask of Themselves what they had wrought….

If I had not intervened, before our wars of mortal and immortal became one and the same, it would still have happened. No touch of Angel or God would have prevented their casually created playthings, toyed with from the first days when they wondered at the lights in the night sky, from discovering so much as the power of steam.

_**No mistake.**_

The other, well, presence, that was in the car, took considerably more effort to disassemble. Sam's Demon powers were easily enough countered, especially since he didn't want them, and wouldn't touch them without using his own blood anyway, but this, the – aura, the life-force, for lack of a better human term - left behind by a power undiluted by conscience or human limitations, was….

"Ck?"

Damnation. He had been hoping it was all his own enhanced imagination.

Castiel's vessel, the dead human body that he'd grabbed as first pick in the emergency, and was just beginning to get used to in a long-term sort of way, looked down at the furry little Demon From Hell he had almost forgotten, in his reminiscences. The kitten pawed his foot.

"What? Food? Water? Litterbox? I already took care of those. Great God Almighty. For this I sacrificed half my powers. I had to wash my hands. Angels don't usually wash hands, not even fallen ones."

_**We are not Demons. And you are not Fallen, Angel.**_

Castiel staggered backwards a full meter. The voice in his mind was as clear a telepathic projection as he had ever managed, even at his full power.

_**We are Another Kind, from before even your vessels. We are your opposite, we are your mirror. Like you, we balance in-between. That is why we can Reach you.**_

I am an immortal angel of God, He who has apparently abandoned us. I have reached into Hell and sifted for souls. And I am talking to kittens.

_**We are all that the angels have wanted to make us, that demons had hoped us to be. We ally with neither. We brook none of your boundaries. We are ourselves.**_

Well, an angel could understand THAT. Angels were continually amazed at how mortal beings could coordinate, much less organize, while fighting everything from each other to raw physical destruction. Ants, cetaceans, canines, they all knew more of both war and working together, and at the same damned time, than angels could scratch their halos over.

_**We have adapted to be what your humans need, as both friend and foe, so that they may learn to be as they aspire to be, what they must ultimately be, to counter what they despise in themselves, to embrace it and use it.**_

Cats were long worshipped as gods. And apparently with good reason, not just for protecting food from mice. "Reach" into the near-infinite power of an angel's mind? That took an access to a level of the universal consciousness that not even the younger gods would dare attempt.

_**We are their partners, we are their strangers. We are what they cannot be, and we cannot be what they can. They must look into our eyes to see themselves as they are.**_

When God invented mutation and evolution in some fit of bored insanity, He created life forms that became something even He had never conceived of – beings that could both fight each other, and fight together. Infinite diversity. Birds that swim, fish that fly. Infinite combinations. Shapes, sizes, colors.

But kittens that speak to angels…?

_**We are truth, we are lies, we are reality, we are fantasies, we are a home of happiness and peace, we are war inside your door when challenged. We are comfort. We are killers. We are beside you, away from you, above you, below you. We watch. We wait. We are. We do. Where even you hesitate, we do not.**_

"You're…" The angel fumbled around, frantically switching mental communication frequencies. It wasn't easy in a vessel with so little mental talent, and it wasn't anything his current form had ever tried – he hadn't done it since bears had seemed promising (bears were talented, but they fought back) - but he'd be damned to hell if an Angel of the Lord, even if the Lord was no longer answering his call, was going to give up to … kittens.

_**You still do not See. We are like you, and we are the opposite. We are balanced on the dividing line, as are you. We will always be on that line. You can step off.**_

Castiel was pretty sure he could not be drugged. But humans were very creative with drugs.

_**Our kind see in your kind the power to both create and destroy. In our kind, the power is to protect, defend, survive. But we were not given the task to create, other than our own, or to end the destruction of others. It is not ours to bring change. It is yours. And your own young ones.**_

I am one of the most powerful beings in the universe. I am talking to kittens.

_**We watch from the shadows, knowing that you will either make the hard choices, or everything that your creator-of-stars dreamed of will die.**_

"MY kind? You've got me confused with…. Uh, man born of woman. Like you? My kind, we're not…"

_**You have the power of choice. That makes you of the same kind that you created, and that created you. We have no comprehension of choice. Either something is, or it is not. We do as we will. But we can not choose what we will.**_

Castiel sat down, cautiously petting two small purring furballs, whose eyes were focused straight into his, with eyelids narrowed. "I must have been trying to understand humans for too long. I'm talking to myself."

_**You are talking to all of us who have lived, and all things beyond it, as long as there has been life and beyond, as you have done yourself.**_

"How long have you been … doing this?"

_**How long have you?**_

"Point taken."

_**There is no final battle. There is no endless war That is a pretense, a distraction from the real work, of always and forever changing. There is only that which you Will and Choose. There is only what is of true purpose and value, of which you know full well, and that which is not, against which we offer our own weapons.**_

"Weapons? But, you, you're…."

_**We are Other than you. We are completely free. We do as we will, without having to make choices, decisions. Our will, our difference, our freedom, is our weapon.**_

Month old kittens. And manifestations of Demons From a Hell, a strange reality even he could barely imagine..

_**We are both your Heaven and your Hell. We are all you fear, and all you wish to be. We are love, and we are terror. Even You will never have words for us, mover-between-worlds. But we do not have your reasons or unlimited Power to Choose. We are only what we are.**_

"You look like cats. You feel like cats. And yet…."

_**What is a cat? What is a human? What is an Angel? At the beginning of creation, why did chaos work so hard to become order? Why are there makers, why destroyers? You nurture your own younglings, the hunters, the prey. You stand aside and let them be builders and destroyers, when you could do it all for them. Why let them Hunt, when you could deliver their meal with a thought? Why let them Play, when they harm themselves in their kitten-games as often as not?**_

"I … it's their choice. Free will. That's how they became … what they are."

_**We all have THAT small freedom of choice. It is to follow orders, to GIVE orders, to have a cause beyond simply being, that is for your kind alone. We are warriors, not soldiers. We fight only when we wish. Your kind must be the soldiers, and one of yours must be the leader, give the orders to the soldiers in a war, if war must be fought.**_

I can destroy demons and angels with a thought, and I am being lectured on theological morality by a pair of balls of fur with claws.

_**Belief is not ours to hold or care about, either. We are your opposite, in that you can step one way or the other. We can only go onward. You can make the transition, or not. We can only become what we must be.**_

Castiel had faced down all the rulers of Hell itself, and all of his fellow Angels, (who, truth be told, were mostly assholes), many times, and had never lost. Because he knew WHY he fought. But he had been powerless against Eve. Because he had doubted who had the right of it.

_**It is wise to doubt, to have to think on your choices, when you are a godling. We would not be able to make such decisions. We are cats. We never doubt. We never need to.**_

In the face of two month-old kittens' steady regard, he stood balanced on the edge between the horror of never knowing, and the horror of knowing everything. Because he was afraid of the answer. And he doubted himself.

_**To your kind alone, is it given to take the choice, take the chance, take the lead.**_

And the steady purring, the calm sharp unblinking eyes, were waiting. For him. To exercise his own free will, and make the ultimate choice.

_**As a daughter can become the Mother, so can a Son become the Father.**_

"You're asking me to take the place of God."

I am asking kittens if I should become God. I would ask the Lord to forgive me, for Touching Dean and Sam, if I thought it would do any good.. I may just turn all their beer to vinegar. Vengeance is Mine, sayeth the Lord.

_**Vengeance, we understand. Fighting, we understand. Survival, we understand. But domination? Control? Ck. An infant knows the difference between strength and power. Perhaps your kind should hear from our kind more often.**_

"It's … not that easy. The war in Heaven is about … how can I explain a rebellion among us, over the lives we all value…?"

_**And this is different from human wars in what way? Your kind, transcendent, and those aspiring to be so, kill for reasons that mean nothing to us, who kill for food and defense. Your waste, your destruction your power, your future, that is what caused us to bring your young subjects to your attention.**_

"Ah. I wondered why they … wait. I am hallucinating this whole thing. Kittens."

_**If you are, could it be for a reason?**_

The kittens purred and snuggled in his lap, tiny tips of claws extended. Fuzzy little balls of absolute … … no, not Hell. Something else, something _**Other**_. Well, the Winchester sons had warned him, and he had taken their human paranoia far too lightly.

**_You are the one who must make the hardest of all choices, soldier on the battlefield. You are the one who can take command, when another has failed. If you choose._**

Castiel cursed at having been made fun of by KITTENS.

_**We HEARD that, "My Cover is God."**_

All the power. All the knowing. All the choices. All the infinite consequences … The knowledge and power that had driven the Creator insane, perhaps to suicide, the knowledge and power to end the war, balance the chaos, open the universal door to the next level. Take the chance – the horrors, the glory, the doubts, the choices - and once an angel took that choice, no way out.

_**It is loving and fighting. Both and opposing. It is having all the power in the universe, and no cover under which to hide. If it were easy, anyone could do it.**_

I am arguing against all that I was afraid I was going to have to do. With kittens.

"You ARE Demons From Hell. Just not the Hell I know. You're Demons from inside my own mind, my own doubts."

_**We are Other. We are Reality. If you come out from under your ancient cover, you will see the truth of your heaven and hell. It is all of that which exists. It is life. Killing and being killed, nurturing and tormenting, celebrating and suffering.**_

Castiel finally understood why Dean drank heavily. An angel of a probably-dead God, being made fun of by KITTENS.

"The power…. I would have to find and summon purgatory, just to begin. And I don't know the way. What to do next…"

_**Piffle on purgatory, whatever that is or isn't. The power was always there for the taking. All of life, all of death, is power. All that matters is You. Your own will. Your own conviction. Your own choice.**_

I am discussing the fate of Heaven and Hell with kittens.

**_TOUCH us._**

His touch of Light, the Light that burned all evil, that he could blaze out so casually as a weapon against the minor leagues, slammed out without his conscious intent - and to his sudden horror - into the kittens.

And flowed back into him, in full force. It felt like cold water, moonlight, flying in a storm wind. Joy. Need. Terror. Illumination. Incomprehensible power. Things to be done. Universes of minds to be wandered over, and wondered at.

Heaven.

A very large house to be cleaned. A humbling, exhilarating, horrifying, self-illuminating decision.

**I CAN DO ANYTHING. I CAN BE ANYTHING. I AM ALL THINGS.**

**I NOT ONLY _MUST_ TAKE ON THIS BURDEN … I _CAN._**

"So. Do I keep letting the boys call me? Okay, that was stupid. I am accepting the role of GOD? And I am asking a pair of baby kittens."

_**Who are, as you were warned up front, here to claw your god-ass if you screw up.**_

Castiel did something he has never done before in all eternity. He threw back his head and laughed.

Sam and Dean came home just before dawn, tired, needing to wash off some blood, and found the Angel and the demons in a curled circle of contentment..

God looked up at them and smiled at all the flooding knowledge. So much to be learned, felt, understood! The powerful young Hunters could teach even Him a few things.

It wasn't even a thought to heal their wounds. It was far more effort to gently dislodge his ancient new counterparts, purring and complaining in their sleep.

Dean looked down at his formerly lacerated arm. "Hey, thanks, Cass."

You will be able to do it yourself soon, young godling. But I cannot tell you what you are. You must learn for yourself.

The new God nodded at the Demons. "No trouble."

He touched the small adversaries' heads, and then, holding the balance of newfound power on that thinnest edge, continued the circle of power to his left hand and right – Samuel, the Forbearer, and Dean, the Defender, gathering in his first Angels.

He did not dare touch them completely, not yet. The power was too great for their minds to accept, until they wanted it themselves, with full certainty. But they already knew it was coming, he could tell.

Dean, with his honed instincts, glared at him, hand fingering for his silver knife. Sam, half demon and denying it with all his human strength, paled in shock.

God knelt one last time before His last challenge. Them, he could Touch.

**I no longer need cover.**

They both clawed him sleepily as a matter of principle.


End file.
